


Wandering in the dark: A DMC Halloween special

by Cheesysquid



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Author wonders about morals bankruptcy, Blow Jobs, Coffee shop with a twist, Consequences, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Decapitation, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Sitting, Halloween, Horror, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesysquid/pseuds/Cheesysquid
Summary: You stumble upon an odd little cafe and meet some attractive folks, who seem to have some stories to share with you.A series of oneshots that I hope to finish in time for Halloween ^^
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Nero (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 105
Kudos: 99





	1. Welcome, to our odd little corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (22/10/2020 edit: I tinkered a bit and managed to delete the author's notes for this chapter... half-awake brain goes brrrr)  
> So the concept of a villainous reader has been boiling in the back of my mind, and since spooky season is upon us, I decided to write something a bit different than usual that involves this concept. May the spooks be with you this Spooktober, dear readers, this is a little gift from me to you.  
> As usual I will give warnings where warnings are due, so please keep the tags in mind before/as you proceed with the stories. I hope this little series will be to your liking~

She finds herself standing on a busy street.

All around her are faces she fails to recognize, and the world is but a blurry, ephemeral mess. Her mind is blank, yet burdened by thoughts that form a discordant, chaotic noise. There is a gnawing pain within her, her head throbs as if trying to regain clarity amidst all the restless turmoil she can’t fathom. 

Yet nothing comes to her mind, and she feels akin to having a void planting its roots deep into her very soul.

Mustering all her strength, she reaches out to the people all around her. She feels so faint, her body rigid and her fingers tremble. “Excuse me… Please, I need help.” she gazes upon those around her, calling out in a voice that becomes drowned out in the sounds of this cold, hectic world. 

But no one cares to listen to her pleas.

A wave of palpable frustration crashes upon her. The world suddenly becomes so vast when one is all alone, shunned and disregarded by those around them. What a predicament she is in, lost with not the faintest clue of where to go, like a lost child with no one to turn to.

Amidst all the misgivings and horrible feelings that roared and ate at her from within, a lovely aroma reaches her. 

Like a little speck of light in the murky waters of darkness, she begins to hold onto the mysterious aroma. She finds it so wonderful, soothing, a relief to all this pain that plagues her body and mind. Warm, nostalgic, and seemingly coming from somewhere just around the corner. 

It isn’t long before she begins searching for the aroma that seems to beckon her, begins searching for a remedy to this ache that torments her. 

She weaves herself through the crowd, like an invisible shadow searching for a place to belong. Like a moth drawn to the most beautiful flames, she wastes not a second, determined to follow this invisible invitation of the sweet and comforting aroma. Hurry, hurry, to a safe haven from this world’s cruelty, to a shelter where her thoughts won’t tear her apart. 

Following the twists and turns of the boulevards, rushing along a dark alley where the street lamps flicker, she arrives before a cafe in a secluded corner where no soul wanders.

The sign of the cafe sways back and forth in the faint breeze that whisks through the lonely alley, its words far too faded and thus becoming indecipherable. A cold and eerie chill runs down her spine, an uneasy feeling worms it way under her skin as she stands before the place. But the wonderful aroma lingers, tugging and pulling at her, like unseen, wicked hands that refuse to let go of her.

Swallowing her doubts and dreads, she decides to go in.

The little doorbell makes a sweet chime, and her frame vanishes behind the wooden door that closes with a creak.

The sound akin to the broken wail of a cat on a dark night. 

\----------

She finds herself standing in an empty, quiet cafe, one that has numerous vacant tables on which are pretty glass vases that hold white flowers.

A quiet song plays in the background, the fireplace crackles while a wonderful fragrance permeates through the air. Antique lamps hang from the ceiling, casting a humble circle of dim light and illuminating the mysterious cafe. She stands rooted to the spot in the dim light, feeling uncertainty and a twinge of fear claw at her from inside.

What an odd little corner.

“Hello, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

A voice reaches her ears, and the realization that she isn’t alone startles her. In the periphery of her vision, she sees him, a tall young man with short white hair. The black suit that he adorns hugs his frame, he bows her way and offers her a boyish smile. 

Strange and sudden how her head begins to throb once more.

“It is our pleasure to have you with us, little lost wanderer.” 

Another voice, deep and rich, graces her ears, prompting her to turn her head towards the sound. A tall man with black hair is there, clad in a black blazer with a white dress shirt peeking beneath. The smile that he gives her, one that reminds her of the Cheshire cat, makes her blood run cold.

Familiar and frightening.

“May we take you to your table? It’s so cold outside and you are pale as a sheet.” the dark-haired man holds out a hand towards her, the charismatic smile never once leaving his face and green eyes boring into hers.

No sooner have the words left his lips does her body begin to act on its own accord. The faint sensation of gloved hand brushes against her palm, and for a moment, she thought his grip on her fingers was like a vice. 

She sees a hint of dark, intricate patterns on pale skin, and feels her heart descend down a spiral of dread when a cold, odd hand places itself on her shoulder.

The song continues to play, sorrowful and distant, as she follows her sudden companions. They lead her towards a table, where a small name tag can be seen sitting next to a vase full of white roses. Her name is there, written in such a beautiful cursive, the black ink giving a striking contrast on the white surface of paper. 

“Does our lady want a hot cuppa? Or does she want something wicked?”

Another voice chimes from somewhere close by, snapping her out of her trance as the young man with white hair pushes her chair in. A turn of her head lets her know her table is near the bar, where a rugged-looking man greets her with an amicable smile. He busies himself with mixing a drink behind the counter, the sound of pouring liquid stirring the ambience of the cafe.

“Take all the time you need. Time is kind to us here, and we will keep you company.”

She can’t help but rub her eyes, seeing how another individual with such a striking resemblance to the carefree barista is standing there at the bar. A man with slicked back hair lays his eyes upon her, gaze sharp like a blade that cuts into her soul.

There is something about those eyes that petrifies her with fear.

“The drinks might take a while. Hmm, what do we do until then… Any idea, V?”

The white-haired young man drums his fingers on the table, standing right beside their patron who is shooting wary glances at each and every one of them. 

“Perhaps we could tell you stories. Are you good at keeping secrets, dearly beloved Y/N?” 

As if lost in a trance, she nods her head, eyes glazed over as cold fingertips caress her jawline. Embers dance in the air, liquid keeps on pouring and glasses reflect the dim light. Fingers trail up and down her arms, leaving behind goosebumps across her skin.

“Good girl. Well then, allow us to tell you stories that we won’t share with anyone else, tragedies that befell the most unfortunate of souls.” The dark-haired man smiles at her, yet behind his green eyes is a sinister malice that pierces through her entire being. 

  
  
  


**_“Stories about the darkness that plagues your twisted, broken, sinner’s heart.”_ **

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment if you'd like, your feedbacks and constructive criticism mean a lot to me :)  
> I hope that October has been kind to you all, seeing how 2020 has been unkind to most of us. Self-care is important, so wrap yourselves in a warm fuzzy blanket and enjoy a cup of warm cocoa, everyone :)  
> November is just around the corner too, may the rest of October be smooth sailing for us all. Please stay safe and take care !


	2. The fallen knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone.  
> I decided to post the chapter ahead of time since I'll be a bit busy for the rest of this month with health-related issues. I'll do my best to get the rest of the chapters up in time as well.  
> A big thank you to my friends and Shon. You guys always offer the most valuable help and support I could ever ask for :)  
> I took inspirations for this story from "Sleepy hollow", which is one of my all time favorites.  
> \------  
>  **Warnings: smut, blowjob, vaginal sex, dark theme, questionable morals, character death, disturbing behavior (I suppose?), other unsavory matters that may have slipped from my mind at the time of writing this warning. Please proceed with care. ******

For as long as he could remember, Vergil had always been on the run.

His horse galloped through the dark forest, the path before him illuminated by the hazy moon hanging in the inky black sky. Worn out was his cloak that fluttered in the wind, and frantic were his heartbeats as the white-haired man dared not look back even once.

He knew he was not alone, not when there were scums hot on their trails trying to hunt for him.

Sceneries passed by in a blur, the leaves-covered ground trembled beneath the hooves of his trusty steed. Dread weighed heavy in his heart, his grip on the reins akin to a vice. He thought he saw shadows in the periphery of his vision, thought he saw movements amongst the many dark trees that stood tall along his path.

And it all made the need to find shelter even more pressing than ever for the wanted knight.

Shelter, he needed to find shelter, somewhere no one and nothing would find him. An obscured place, so insignificant and tiny, would be the perfect veil to mask his trail. He would rest during the day, and rampage at night when darkness shrouded him in its comforting safety. 

Following the twists and turns of the dark forest, the wanted knight came to a cliff. He then caught a glimpse of a tiny village in the distance, just as the moon peeked from behind foreboding clouds. A chilling breeze whirled past him, coaxing his snowy locks to dance while an idea began to hatch in his head.

Secluded enough, small and mundane enough to shroud him in the obscurity of a backward place where life is uneventful. 

Time was marching, and every single second was precious. Vergil commanded his horse to press forth, to pave a path towards the village hidden behind a thin layer of fog. As his steed followed the lonely, long dirt path that led him to safety, the wanted knight dared to hope that lady fortune was on his side.

His sudden appearance at the village was met with curious, prying eyes and murmured whispers.

The hood of his cloak obscured his face, his steps a steady rhythm and mind on alert. He kept his head low, eyes gazing straight ahead and hand holding the reins as he led his horse along. The shallow conversations that villagers expected from him drained his patience with each ticking second, and he disliked having eyes on him at all times.

What a funny turn of fate, a fallen knight now lived in a tiny village where everyone went about with their day like mindless insects crawling in the dark.

That was, until he met her on that one fateful day.

\--------

Vergil often found it to be a hindrance how his body, battered by wars and full of scars, demanded nourishment.

Such was the weakness of being human, a fact he lamented whenever he was the only soul awake in this godforsaken corner of the world.

The sky was dark by the time he left the inn. His sanctuary was a small room with the most basic of items, the decor cheap and aged wallpapers peeling off. The wooden floor cried with every step he took, and he remained oblivious to the world outside with the window remained shut at all times. His sword was always within reach, and whenever silence rang in his ears as night fell, his paranoia came to life. 

  
  


**_How bittersweet it was that glory cost him the peace of his mind._ **

  
  


Eyes were on him the moment Vergil stepped through the door of the village’s tavern.

A noisy, shabby place that reeked of an unpleasant smell, strong and horrible. He made his way towards a quiet corner, eyes gazing straight ahead and jaw clenched as more folks stared at him. He detested them all, he despised being here, and had it not been for the fact he needed a meal to ease his hunger, the wanted knight would never bother stepping foot in this place.

In the solitude of his own company, Vergil witnessed everything that was unfolding around him. He watched as folks downed their drinks, frowned at the slurred, drunken banters and witnessed debauchery. It all motivated him to make haste and finish his meal, lest another woman draped herself over him or another drunken bastard soured his evening even more.

As he rose from his seat and began to leave, the knight was oblivious to a pair of eyes that followed him. 

His steed was there, tied to a nearby post outside of the tavern by the time Vergil walked through the door. A cool evening breeze whirled past him, stars glittered in the dark sky while the moon cast its pale rays onto the little village. Undoing the tie that bound his horse in place, the white-haired man began leading it away, until an unfamiliar voice called out to him.

“Excuse me, I think you forgot something.”

Vergil never remembered faces, there was no point in doing so when he wanted to leave no traces of his existence behind. But there was something unfathomable, something so enigmatic about this woman who was approaching him. He recognized what was in her hand, the small pouch of coins that he did not remember leaving at the tavern in his haste to leave.

“Do be careful on your way home, stranger.” the unknown woman handed him his pouch of coins, and as their fingers brushed against each other, a mysterious spark ignited within him . “Bad things tend to happen to those who wander in the dark, or so I have been told.”

She smiled at him, amicable and warm, and was then on her merry way. Vergil stood and watched as the stranger’s silhouette vanished into the night, wondering when was the last time he was not treated with hostility or prying curiosity. The warmth of her hands lingered on his, and he couldn’t help but wonder about this spark that refused to leave his heart.

Dark clouds cloaked the moon that was starting to wane above him. 

\--------

His mind was full of thoughts about her ever since their brief encounter that night.

Vergil learned that she dwelled here, in this village surrounded in a thin layer of fog. Y/N was her name, a lady who got him tongue tied with her banters. Her house was but a humble yet cozy cottage, in the outskirts of this nameless place where a dirt path trailed off into the dark woods. She had a small plot for a garden, where herbs and vegetables received her utmost care.

The knight found it odd at first, how someone could treat him with so much kindness. But the smile she gave him brought warm rays of sunlight to grace his wary, battle worn heart, and her voice was a wonderful distraction from the noises of his past. Her company soothed him, and before long, she filled his dull life with joy that he failed to fathom.

And he never realized how touch-starved he was, until she held his hand as they walked away from the tavern one night.

She banished the darkness in his heart that thrived on his miseries, sweet like honey and healing like an elixir for a tarnished soul. The lingering gaze she gave him, the warmth of her hand that made his heart throb. He carved it all into his mind, holding onto them on sleepless nights when his past tormented him with memories he wished he could forget. 

As spring turned into summer and summer gave way to autumn, his feelings for her grew and blossomed.

She was always there for him, always waiting for him at the exact same place in a quieter corner of the village’s tavern. Being by her side alone was no longer enough to sate his longing, and gazing at her no longer satisfied his wavering. His new found joy, his little blessing, the light he never knew could illuminate his world with such vibrancy. 

Before long, he began to crave her.

Vergil could not recall when exactly their nightly rendezvous began. But it did not matter, for as long as he could be by her side, the world became less suffocating and grey. 

When the moon rose in the dark sky and silence befell the land, Vergil would begin making his way to her home. He followed the dirt path that led to the outskirts of the village, his footsteps swallowed by the deafening quietness and piercing blue eyes ever so watchful. Three knocks on the door and she would be there, clad in a simple nightgown and smiling at him with a hint of indecency in her eyes.

He was onto her the moment the door of her home closed behind them.

A heated, passionate kiss, hunger and desires that were unmasked. The enamored knight held his beloved against him, their tongues caressed each other and fingers explored each other’s body. In the dim light of her cottage, he watched as her dress pooled around her feet, felt his breath hitch as the sight of her, bare and alluring.

Vergil rid himself of his attire, his heartbeats frantic and mouth dry as he saw the smile on her face. Her bed was warm, the sheets silky against his bare back. A wonderful aroma wafted from the small candles placed on the old nightstand, their lights are but small flickering spots in the periphery of his vision. 

His heart hammered, his chest rose and fell when her fingers caressed his body. Those fingertips left behind a blazing trail across his skin, and he lost himself in her smoldering gaze. Sparks of pleasure alighted in him the moment she planted a kiss to the side of his member, the chuckle that reached his ears was anything but innocent.

Fires of passion engulfed him, searing hot and sinful under his skin. Vergil became intoxicated with pleasure, tipping his head back with a grunt when her mouth took him in. Her fingers caressed him in the lewdest way, the way her eyes bore into his as she bobbed her head along his length..

He was succumbing to her, drowning deeper and deeper in her affections.

She looked so gorgeous being on top, the sight of his cock disappearing inch by inch inside of her was mesmerizing. He longed to feel her, to trace patterns on her skin and to cup her breasts in his hands. But her fingers were upon his wrists, pinning his hands by his head as she continued to bounce on top of him. 

“Relax, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

Vergil wanted to retort, but all that he could muster were grunts and pants. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the once so soothing aroma now mixed with the smell of sex. The bed creaked and squeaked, wrinkled sheets rustled while the headpost slammed against the wall again and again. 

She gazed down at him, face contorted in utter bliss. Her hips moved in a lecherous rhythm, juice gushing from her stretched, glistening folds and coating his cock. She impaled herself on him, had him buried so deep within her and caressed his length with her wet, velvety walls. He adored how her insides clenched onto him when he bucked up into her awaiting core, loved how she cooed sweet nothings to him when the tip of his cock reached the barrier of her womb.

She came with a wanton cry, her walls fluttering and milking him for all he was worth.

Like a pretty rag doll, she collapsed next to him, utterly spent and gorgeous. The warmth of her body, the glow that surrounded her after their clandestine activities, her soft voice calling his name. Everything made his heart swell with life and joy, and he knew at that moment he could no longer spend his waking minutes without her.

As he laid asleep in her embrace, lulled to sleep by her voice and fingers combing through his snowy locks, the knight remained oblivious to the curl of his lover’s lips.

\--------

It became a tradition of some sorts for him to visit her, as soon as the first ray of moonlight slipped through the tiny crack of his closed window.

That night too, he once again followed the beaten dirt path that led to her home, when the moon hid behind dark clouds and stars were nowhere in sight. Three little knocks and she was there, faithful and ever eager to savor his company. 

A savory aroma lingered in the air when he stepped foot inside of her humble home. Numerous delectable dishes laid on the table that stood at the heart of her small kitchen, piping hot and and mouthwatering. She had prepared a meal for him, hearty and wonderful, rendering him at loss for words at how hospitable she always was.

“Your kindness never fails to amaze.” he murmured against her cheek, lips brushing so gently against her skin. His heart was full of adoration for her, and he couldn’t help but smile when her lips were upon his in a sweet, chaste kiss.

Giving her a smile as he raised his glass, Vergil began downing his drink. The burn was strangely enticing on his tongue, and sent electrifying sparks to run through his veins. For a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of unreadable emotions in her eyes, but the warm, beautiful smile on her face banished the thought.

She claimed him again afterwards, having led him to her bedroom with a sultry gaze. Two shadows etched onto the dimly lit walls, their bodies moving to the rhythm of lust. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, ramming into her sheath and sinking his teeth in her flesh. That sweet voice of her crying out in euphoria, a melody that kept him sane in a world that had scarred him near past the point of redemption.

He held her in his arms, content and blissful, having filled her to the brim with his love and quenched the flames of desires that burnt him from within. A deep slumber claimed him at some point, his chest rose and fell while his eyes squeezed shut.

But Y/N wasn’t asleep.

The sheets rustled as she got out from his embrace. In the darkness of her room, she gazed at his slumbering form, a blank expression painted on her face and lips forming a thin line. She trailed a hand down the span of his arm, before getting out of bed when she realized her gentleman was indeed fast asleep. 

The hem of her nightgown fluttered as Y/N made her way towards the bedroom’s door, her steps light and graceful like a cat. She lingered by the door frame for a fleeting moment, casting one last glance at the white-haired man in her bed before going on her merry way. 

In the faint flickering light of her home, something glimmered in her eyes.

\--------

There was a painful throb in his head the moment Vergil woke from his slumber some time later.

The world was but a spinning mirage before his eyes, blurry and chaotic. His body felt heavy like lead, he tried to reach a hand out, blindly searching around for her in the haze that fogged his mind.

How his heart sank when she was not there.

Mustering all the strength he had left, Vergil parted from the warmth and comfort of her bed. Static noises filled his head, his fingers trembled as the knight put on his attire. He began searching for her, wandering from room to room, like a lost soul wandering in darkness searching for a tiny ray of hope.

“Y/N? Where are you?” his voice was hoarse as she called her name, dread rooting itself deep in the pit of his stomach as he searched her home, hoping to find her and hold her once more.

But she was nowhere to be found.

He thought he saw them, little dots of light outside the window of her home. And that brought a little speck of hope to his heart, compelled him to reach for the door that would lead him outside. Perhaps she was there, listening to the distant sounds of a night owl and gazing at the stars that she thought were glittering diamonds of the sky.

As soon as he stepped out of the door, however, Vergil discovered he wasn’t alone.

Torches, flickering in the darkness of night, casting a small circle of faint orange light on the faces he could not recognize. A mob was there, anger and hatred evident in their eyes, gazing at him as if he was a monster that dared trespass their lands. 

And among them was  _ her _ .

Her once beautiful nightgown became tattered, and his blood ran cold at the accusing gaze she tossed his way. Tears after tears cascaded down her face, broken sobs left her lips and scars littered her skin. His mind failed to process it all, an aghast expression evident on his face the moment she pointed a finger his way.

“It’s him, the fallen knight who took me and inflicted these scars on my skin.” 

He wanted to ask her why, the word echoed in his head over and over again.

Time seemed to slow down right then and there, the world darkened and collapsed right before his eyes. He did not want to believe it at first, he did not want to acknowledge this twinge of pain that pierced through his heart like a thousand blades. A weak fight it was, his body far too weak and uncoordinated to push away the hands that seized him.

The shame of being powerless was nothing compared to the despair of betrayal, which weighed heavier and heavier upon him with each passing second.

He gazed at her, grunting and growling as the villagers pushed him to the ground. 

He saw a wicked curl of her lips, saw the sinister intents hidden behind her innocent eyes. 

As pale moonlight poured onto her frame, he wondered if it was a demon with whom he slept. 

\--------

The final moments of his life were humiliating and agonizing. 

The villagers took him there, to a large tree in the heart of the dark forest. His hands bound behind him, fingers clenched and unclenched, void of the familiar weight of his sword. Vergil walked with his head hung in bitter defeat, listening to his own dull heartbeats while folks spit venomous words all around him.

A dark fire began to kindle deep within him, for in the periphery of his vision, he saw her walk among those who wanted him dead.

He cared not how they cheered as the noose adorned his neck, these villagers were but mindless insects crawling back and forth in his eyes. But her, the woman who led him to his demise, she was all he could think about. Loved mixed with pain, sweetness became palpable bitterness and betrayal twisted like a knife into his heart.

How dare she not have the barest hint of remorse in her eyes.

Y/N was the last thing she saw, her mere presence ignited an unquenchable darkness that burnt from inside his heart. It was becoming harder to breath, the claps and yells morphed into jumbled, static noises in his ears. Life dimmed within him, his mind became blank as he parted from this world with regrets.

\--------

Humans could be so simple sometimes.

That was the sole thought that appeared in her mind as she stood and witnessed the hanged knight’s final moments. Life was so dull here, and he- a man who was on the run, became something so exotic the moment she laid eyes on him at the tavern. 

Those who were not favored by the world often saw kindness as a salvation, something she had learned from her little flings.

She was curious about how this mysterious man would react, she wanted to know how long it would take for her to crack his shell. It was worth the troubles, she mused at times, the gradual yet little changes that happened as he let her in his world was fascinating. But what thrilled her the most was the hateful glare that he shot her right before his death. Oh how it sent pleasant tingles across her body, he was like a pretty little butterfly caught in the net of a spider.

He was a good lover as he was a great quick leap to fortune and fame.

Today too, they revered her, the brave, virtuous woman who brought retribution upon the elusive dark knight whose hands were tainted beyond salvation. The bounty was not hers alone, and the village made good use of the money that was far beyond what their pitiful harvests could bring. Though to be fair, it was no fun being a savior, and it was boring being seen as good.

It wasn’t as fun as luring someone in with kindness and crushing the hopes that bloomed in their unsuspecting hearts.

Sitting before her vanity, Y/N gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Innocence was her allure, her false kindness an addicting temptation and her sweet affections the hook. A smile bloomed on her face, she was dolled up and ready for some fun.

Tonight too, she would look for another unsuspecting soul to prey on.

A chill lingered in the air, the breeze that whisked past her frame carried a heartbreaking howl. She reckoned that must be the cries of those who fell because of her, and the thought coaxed a chuckle out of her. 

Eenie meenie miny moe, those who loved her tasted woe.

As she made her way towards the village’s tavern, Y/N remained oblivious to the hatred that accumulated six feet under the hanging tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the chapter was to your liking, please feel free to leave a comment if you would like ^^  
> I got some bad news recently concerning my health. I've been working slowly on a solution, but I suppose this is what happens when you put 0 points in health during the character creation step huh...  
> How is the situation where you guys are? I hope you guys are well and safe this spooky season.  
> Stay safe and take care ^^


	3. Pretty little butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello ^^  
> I have managed to complete the next chapter of this Halloween specials, and as you can see I got a tiny bit carried away.   
> I would like to offer my sincerest thanks to my dear friends, especially Wynn and @ghostofarose for betareading both the outline and the finalized draft. Once again, I truly couldn't have managed without your help, thank you ever so much guys :)  
> \------  
>  **Warnings: smut, dubious consent, facesitting, vaginal sex, dark themes, disturbing behavior, character's death (please skip this part if you can't stomach death by asphyxiation), questionable morals, and other matters that may have slipped from my mind. Please proceed with care. ******

Nero found the job advertisement by chance on a rainy day.

Little raindrops pitter pattered on the dark surface of his opened umbrella. He had his eyes on an innocuous piece of paper, which was pasted onto the bulletin board that stood on the side of the street. The young lad stood still and scanned the imprinted words, one arm holding onto bags of grocery while people hurried back and forth to find shelter from the rain.

He paid them no mind, and cared not about the odd stares that some people threw his way. Nero was thinking about his adoptive family, who saved him from the gloomy days at the orphanage where he was deemed an outcast. A humble life he shared with them, a small yet cozy house he lived in. 

Life was good and he felt loved, but Nero would be lying if he said he didn’t want to repay their kindness. 

“Whoever put this thing up sure has money to spend…” 

Nero muttered under his breath, blue eyes zoning in on the hefty sum of salary written on the job advertisement. Quite a lot of zeros, accompanied by an offer of bed and meals that he thought were rather good incentives to consider. It was quite a good pay to be fair, seeing how he was young and inexperienced while everyone around him expected their employee to be a golden apple in the orchard. 

And the pros outweigh the cons in his head.

Letting out a hum, and having given the requirements yet another quick read, Nero decided to snatch the piece of paper from the bulletin board when no one was looking. He stuffed his chanceful discovery in the pocket of his blue jacket, and was then on his way back home as the sound of rain became louder in his ears.

Perhaps he ought to talk about this with his family first.

\----------

Following the instructions given on the job advertisement, and having consulted his family, Nero arrived in front of a secluded mansion a few days later.

Dark fences stood tall before him, and a frown marred his face when Nero realized there was not a soul in sight. He had half a mind to just climb over them and invite himself in, when the young lad saw a figure from afar. An old woman came to greet him, dressed in a black and white maid attire with her hair tied in a neat updo and hands laced together. 

Trembling, bony, twitching hands. 

“Are you by chance here for the posted job, sir?”

Nero was never good with being around people, his temper and the false arm that he grew up with often drove everyone away. His family was the only exception, and he could never help feeling standoffish whenever he was in the company of a stranger. But he had come here, to this secluded place in hopes for a job, and for that he decided to swallow the discomfort that was brewing within him. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“I see, please let me open the gate for you.”

He winced at the sound that came with the rusty gate being opened and closed, one that made him wonder if no one had bothered to oil the screws that bound it to the tall dark fences. The old maid gestured for him to follow her, and he trailed after her with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his pants.

Tall, lush trees grew on either side of the path he treaded on. Sunlight flitted through the branches, leaving bright spots to dance on the grassy ground where droplets of water lingered on the green grass blades. Crows skipped about, watching him with curious eyes before letting out a morose croak and flying towards the sky above.

As he continued to follow the old maid, Nero realized there was someone else who was also there, in this vast garden filled with the soothing ambience of nature.

An odd-looking old man with one blind eye, that was the first thing that came to the young lad’s mind. There was something about that crooked smile that sent chills down his spine, and an uneasy feeling made itself known when the strange fellow limped his way forward.

“I spy with my little eye, a young man with a strange arm hehehe. Tell me boy, are you gonna stay with us?” 

Nero couldn’t help but hide his false arm behind him, feeling ever so conscious with the stranger grinning at him. There was something off putting about the pair of garden shears in those old, wrinkly hands, far too big and gleaming under the sun.

“Yes, I am taking him to see the young mistress. She is expecting his company.” the maid stepped forward, and relief filled the white-haired man’s heart seeing how he would not have to stay and be in the strange man’s company.

“Oh boy oh boy! She will love his company! Yes yes, definitely!” 

The old man grinned from ear to ear and snapped the garden shears his hand, prompting a dreadful feeling to dwell in his guts as Nero saw how he was being stared at. Yet the huge, strange grin on the man’s face disappeared within moments, and he scowled at Nero and the maid as if their presence offended him to no end.

“What are you idiots standing there for?! Shoo, off you go, step away from my garden!”

The sudden shift in the stranger’s attitude caught Nero off guard. He arched an eyebrow in an uncomfortable, puzzled manner, before following the old maid towards the mansion that loomed in the distance. He had his fair share of strange encounters, but this man was perhaps the strangest person he had ever seen.

Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, Nero saw the gardener kept on snapping his shears at nothing. The strange fellow kept mumbling intelligible words under his breath and snickering, like a giddy child anticipating cheap thrills. 

\----------

He arrived at the foyer with the old maid moments later.

The place was spacious, yet not a soul was in sight. A chandelier drooped like willows from the ceiling while various flower vases rested against the wall, wafting a pleasant fragrance in the air. Paintings adorned the walls, depicting individuals who he assumed to be the ones who dwelled here.

“Right this way, sir.” 

Their footsteps echoed against the chilly silence as Nero ascended the grand staircase with the old maid. A mixture of curiosity and nervousness coiled around his heart as the young lad followed the old lady, whose hands twitched like the ticks of the clock. He walked past numerous paintings of red spider lilies, but what caught his attention the most was the portrayal of a small house standing all alone at the heart of a lake.

The maid led him to a room at the end of the corridor. “The young miss is waiting for you sir.” she said, offering him a bow of her head and was then on her way, as if in a hurry to get to somewhere else. Nero thought he caught a glimpse of a troubled look on her face, one that filled his mind with questions and morbid curiosity.

Left alone in the hallway, the young lad took a deep breath and tugged on the collar of his shirt. He gave a few knocks to the wooden surface of the large door in front of him, to which a muffled voice answered. 

“Come in.” 

And he did just that, giving the door knob a turn after a moment of hesitation.

He saw maroon wallpapers, and large windows holding velvety curtains that swept the carpeted floor. A lady was there, clad in a dress that he thought was elegant and expensive. Nero did not know what was more striking, the various framed butterflies that adorned the walls, or how she was smiling at him with a gaze that he could not understand.

“What’s your name?” 

Footsteps then reached his ears, and Nero couldn’t help but stutter when the stranger came to a stop beside him. 

“Nero...I’m Nero.” he shot her a curious look, hoping she wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks while she had her eyes glued to the collection of butterflies before her. 

“Nero, is it? Your name has a nice ring to it. I’m Y/N, the mistress of this mansion. My father is unfortunately on a business trip, so for the time being you’ll be working for me.”

As their eyes met for the first time, Nero felt a strange sensation, foreign yet so pleasant tinglings seep under his skin. His heartbeats quickened, whether because of her kind, sweet words or his nervousness, he had not a clue.

“Come, I’ll show you around the mansion. I don’t want you to get lost, it’s hard to walk around when the sky gets dark, after all.”

Standing so close to her, Nero noticed the perfume she was wearing. A lovely fragrance, soft and soothing, diluting the palpable tension that burnt his nerves. He gave her a nod of his head, before accompanying her out of the room. She smirked at the blush on his cheeks, prompting the white-haired young man to frown and scratch his nose in embarrassment.

His thoughts about the bizarre room filled with framed butterflies became lost in the little talks he made with her, as the two of them walked about the lonely mansion together. 

\----------

Nero began his new life here, in this secluded mansion while working as a butler under Y/N.

He did not notice it at first, but those who were here seemed to be a bunch of quirky individuals. The old maid was always fidgety, the gardener an oddball who always giggled to himself, and the staff were always in such a hurry like the white rabbit he once read in a book. He couldn't understand the fear that painted a young maid’s face when she happened to drop a tea cup, nor the weird songs the gardener always sang when the last rays of sunlight graced the garden.

But the strangest thing was how no one was allowed to keep the door of their room locked at night.

“Oh that’s how it has always been here, young lad.” the old maid offered Nero a sad smile whenever he asked her about the doors. “This is her home sweet home, and we are her guests. It is our job to make miss Y/N happy, though to be fair, I haven’t seen her so full of life like this in so long. Perhaps we have you to thank, Nero.”

Ah… Y/N…

She was rather pleasant to be around, unlike the haughty,demanding image he conjured in his head when he saw the job advertisement that day. And yet, she often had the strangest of tasks for him, ones he thought were not the responsibilities that a butler was supposed to fulfill.

“That was a bad move, Nero.”

She chuckled with triumphant joy, holding a chess piece in a teasing manner before him as if to rub more salt to his wound. That marked his fifth loss this afternoon.

“I don’t play chess, not often anyway.” Nero admitted in a disgruntled manner, watching as his opponent shot him a grin.

They were together at the small lake house, a small building that stood at the heart of the lake behind the mansion. This was her sanctuary, a little haven she frequented to take a break away from the world. Nero often took her there, and the two of them would sit on a small boat that he rowed across the still waters of the lake. 

“Come on, let’s go back. We’ve been here for a while already, you know.” Nero began, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze. He wasn’t a fan of idle games like this, and his patience wore thin after having lost for the third time in a row that day. 

It was then that out of the corner of his eye, Nero noticed that Y/N was glaring at him. 

“Sorry… that was rude.” he offered her a sheepish apology, a troubled frown becoming evident on his face as silence filled the air. He thought he saw it, the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes that made his chest tighten. A figment of his imagination, Nero reassured himself, as it disappeared within moments when a sweet smile bloomed on her face.

“No worries, I like how at ease you are around me. It’s actually refreshing.”

As per her request, the white-haired young man then took his mistress back to the other side of the lake. The sun was starting to set, its dimming rays shone through the leaves of the tall trees whose leaves rustled to the humm of the wind. Droplets of water splashed like transparent little marbles, and Nero thought Y/N looked so gorgeous in the dimming daylight.

As her butler continued to row across the peaceful lake, Y/N had her eyes glued to the waters. 

\----------

Work often tired him out, and being away from home did not help with the homesickness that manifested and grew inside his heart.

Light dimmed from outside the big windows of the dimly lit hallway by the time Nero was done with his chores. He retired to his room, much later compared to everyone else at the mansion. His body ached, muscles fatigued from running back and forth all day long to accommodate her demands.

Now that he thought about it, she had been a bit more demanding as of late.

His shadow trailed behind him, footsteps ever so loud in the silence of the night as Nero made his way back to his room. The old key stuck fast, yet Nero could not help the feeling that someone else was there, gazing at him from afar. But there was no one else there, no matter how many times he checked, and the young lad let out a dry laugh at his sudden wariness.

Funny how the mind works sometimes.

Closing the door behind him, Nero dragged himself to his bed on sluggish steps. A sigh escaped him the moment his back met with the comfort of the mattress. He swallowed thickly, feeling his fatigue eat at him from inside out. It frustrated him to no end, and being left all alone to his thoughts, in the darkness of an unfamiliar place, prompted him to seek but one thing.

Relief.

Nero made quick work of his belt, the gentle rustles of the sheets and his clothes drowned by the loud thumps of his heart in his own ears. It would be quick, he thought, just something to ease the stress that tormented him. 

He bit his lips the moment his hands wrapped around his cock. Something about this was both thrilling and risky, the fact he was not allowed to keep his door locked injected him with unexplainable thrills. It made the pleasure much better, made his strokes rough and fast just so he could paint his hand white without anyone catching him in the act.

Or so he thought.

Lost himself in bliss, Nero remained oblivious to the footsteps that were getting closer to his room. His hands stuttered the moment the pitiful creak of the door reached his ears, and blood drained from his face as a familiar figure emerged at the doorway.

Y/N was there, clad in a nightgown and staring at him with a blank expression that doused the shearing fires in his loins.

The utter shock of being caught in the act petrified Nero. His mind became blank, and a wave of utter mortification crashed upon the young man as he locked his eyes with hers. But his mistress did not seem to mind, for she continued to gaze at his indecent form while her fingers pulled the lock into place.

_ Click.  _

“How cute, you’re so flustered.”

Nero wanted to move, to pull the sheets over himself and salvage some of his remaining dignity. Yet his body refused to cooperate, and the bed creaked as Y/N invited herself in, having taken off her clothes just moments ago. A choked gasp left his lips when soft fingers wrapped themselves around his cock, and Nero whimpered as his mistress began to caress him in the lewdest way.

The conflict between body and mind tore at him from within.

He watched like a deer caught in a headlight as she crawled up his body, the sensation of her body upon his was one of a kind. His eyes widened in shock, wavering heart thumped against his ribcage when her cunt hovered inches away from his face. 

“Do your job pretty boy. Don’t be shy now.”

Whatever his protests were became muffled within moments. His face was her throne, and his body her toy. He arched, trembled, moaned as soft fingers once again stroke his erect cock, the head weeping with precum. She was gushing and pink, her nectar bore a strange yet fantastic flavor against his taste buds. It was so much and not enough at once, and Nero’s eyes rolled back when he felt her digits prod at his puckered hole.

“Alright, that’s enough. Guess I’ll fuck you now then.”

His mind was hazy, clouded by a thin layer of unfathomable lust. A thin string of saliva connected his lips with her glistening folds, and in the pale moonlight that poured in from the window, Nero watched as Y/N mounted him. He grunted at the feeling of his cock being engulfed by her velvety walls, witnessed as his length disappeared inch by inch inside of her.

Tantalizing and erotic.

“It’s been too damn long, fuck Nero you’re something else.” 

Nero couldn’t think, nor could he object the fact that having his cock lodged inside his mistress was heavenly. The teasing, proper lady was no more, for she had become a sex-crazed nymph who was bouncing on top of him without shame. He lost himself in a trance, enthralled by the pleasure that coursed through his veins and the fragrance that was her. 

It was becoming hot, the air sizzled with tension and filled with the smell of sex. She had his top undone, and Nero tipped his head back with a groan when his mistress raked her nails down his torso. He gazed into her eyes as she continued to use his body, only to see depravity swirling like the eye of the storm in her mesmerizing orbs.

Nero was the first to come, panting and fisting the wrinkled sheets as his body writhed in ecstasy. He saw it then, the debauched smile that flashed on her face as her cunt milked him for all he’s worth. Tingles of desire alight in him when her hands cupped his cheek, and a moan bubbled in his throat when she sought his affection with a deep, passionate kiss.

“You truly are something else, Nero. I might need your company more from now on.”

Nero couldn’t think, nor could he comprehend the way she was gazing at him. Lost and trapped in a haze that was her, he all but offered his mistress a bleary smile. His body felt so light and ethereal, basked in the wonderful afterglow of it all.

“I can handle that… anything for you.”

Anything, and everything for her.

\----------

Their rendezvous became some sorts of a routine for him and her.

The world became like a fleeting dream when he was with her, together on their fun playdates. She was a greedy little thing, always leaving him breathless and aching with her hunger for affections. But it was pleasant, Nero thought, being desired and loved as if today was his last was akin to a drug he could not break away from.

He was drawn to her, like a butterfly to the most beautiful flower that bloomed with pride.

“Do you believe in forever, Nero?” 

She asked him one day, when the two of them sat together in the butterfly room late at night. The crackling sound of the fireplace was somewhere around him, a small, bright orange dot in the periphery of his vision. She had her gaze fixated on him, and Nero could not help but wonder if his hazy mind was a result of sleepless nights, or being overworked by her lustful craze.

“To be honest?” his heart palpitated, and Nero struggled to look at his mistress in the eye as the world around him was but a blurry mess. “I don’t believe in that crap. Tell you what, Y/N, by the time you know what forever is, I doubt you’re still human.”

His answer was blunt, far too blunt, yet the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. She gave him a cold stare, over the rim of her teacup with a strange glint evident in her eyes. Nero wanted to apologize to her, to explain that clarity kept flickering in his head like the little flame of a candle before an unforgiving wind. 

But he felt her fingers caress his cheeks then, and his heart throbbed with delight when Nero caught a glimpse of her adorable smile.

“Will you do anything for me, Nero?”

The question was unexpected, albeit redundant in his mind. Nero chuckled and nodded his head, his body light as a feather while a strange giddiness overridden his mind. Like a loyal dog wagging its tail, he awaited her command with zeal, feeling her fingers leave behind pleasant tingles on his skin.

  
  


**_“-- f--or m..e”_ **

  
  


Nero vaguely heard the words, which rang loud and clear in his mind. He saw the mesmerizing movements of her lips, and a smile that he thought was far too strange on her face. His body then moved on its own, mind struggling to register the twists and turns of the corridor and the steps of the grand staircase. 

It wasn’t until moments later that Nero heard the sound of swaying grass blades and leaves rustling. His surroundings had changed, and the young man found himself surrounded by nature. The sound of water was all around him, and he noticed then the lake was right before his eyes. He stood still in a daze at the edge of the lake shore, where gentle, cold waves lapped at his bare feet.

Without thinking, Nero began to step forward.

Water splashed, and coldness began to crawl from his leg up his torso. He ventured further, succumbed deeper, letting the waters of the lake engulf him in its gentle hold. His cheeks felt cold, and within moments his ears became clogged.

Panic only registered in his mind the moment Nero realized he could not breathe.

His eyes snapped open, only to realize that he was submerged. In the darkness of the lake, he saw them, dark, deformed beings that reached for him. Fear screamed in his mind just as terror seized his heart. Nero struggled, screamed, thrashed, anything to get him out of the predicament that he was in. 

Yet his pleas remained unheard.

Tiny bubbles danced in the dark, cold waters. His body began to grow heavy, and the flicker of life in his now heavy-lidded eyes started to dim. Nero reached for the reflection of the far away moon on the surface of the lake, just as memories after memories raced through his mind. 

His last few heartbeats were laced with regrets. 

\----------

Y/N stood on the shore all alone, a blank expression painted on her face as she watched the young butler drown.

“There, now you will know the meaning of forever, Nero.” A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and the hem of her nightgown fluttered against a cold breeze that whisked past her figure. “Oh well, thank you though, it was fun while it lasted.”

Her little moment was disturbed, however, as footsteps rang loud in the silence of the night. The gardener approached her, stopping by her side while his hands held onto the big pair of garden shears. 

Snip snip.

“Was he to your liking, miss? Hehehe.” the odd man shot his mistress a curious look, grinning from ear to ear like a child waiting to be praised.

“It was fun, he was different compared to the rest. I wonder if I can meet another person like him eventually.” Y/N let out a sigh, before turning on her heel and walking back to the mansion. 

No one else will ever find him again. 

He will be bound to her, to this estate, until the day her body too would rot six feet under. 

“Prepare more job advertisements, I expect a new companion soon.” 

“Hehehehe, leave it to this gardener, I’ll catch more pretty little butterflies for you, miss Y/N.” He limped after her, snapping his garden shears with joy.

_**One more pretty little butterfly to her ever growing collection.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please feel free to leave a comment if you would like. Your suggestions and criticism mean a lot to me :)  
> Spooky season fuels me even more than my existential dread 👍


	4. Mirage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ++ Please check the warnings before proceeding with this chapter. ++
> 
> Hello, I am back with another chapter ^^  
> I went to town again with this story, and hopefully it is an enjoyable read. I left my sanity at the door though so please make a U-turn as soon as red flags start popping up for you guys.  
> A huge thank you to my friends+ Wynn, and especially @ghostofarose for helping me with beta reading. Thank you for accepting me guys, even when I am flawed as hell (and questioning my reason to live daily).  
> \-----------  
>  **Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, rough sex (kinda?), gore, decapitation (aka head goes flying), questionable morals, disturbing imagery, traumas, dark themes. Please proceed with caution. ******  
> 

The sun was starting to set by the time Dante was done with his errands.

He had spent the last couple of days here in this quaint village, a place so tiny and insignificant that its name escaped his mind almost at all time. Bells tolled in the distance, and flocks of birds fluttered their wings overhead. Dark lumps of clouds hovered over the horizon, and the sky was a large canvas of orange, violet and dark blue. 

“Thank you for helping us again. Are you sure this is all you want for your payment?”

He received the money from the villagers, a carefree smile evident on his face despite the puzzled, questioning gazes they were giving him. Hospitable folks they were, a rare occurrence given the fact he was a mercenary who never lingered in one place for longer than necessary.

Or perhaps they were just oblivious to the story behind his name.

“Oh don’t sweat it, this is more than enough to keep me well fed. You folks are too kind.” 

His voice was full of mirth as Dante gazed at the worried people standing before him, finding humor in how he towered over them all. The bag of coins felt nice in his hand, and he had grown to love the sound of their jinglings. It was music to his ears, especially when having a good meal and a roof over his head was once a farfetched dream for the renown mercenary.

“Alright, looks like it’s time for me to go.” Dante put away his well-earned payment in his pocket, taking the darkening sky as his cue to move to the next village. “Adios. Take care and don’t wander after dark, folks.”

Another day, another job done.

Letting out a weary sigh, Dante embarked on a journey to another village. He dared hope that there would be more jobs awaiting his arrival, something fun and exciting that could get adrenaline pumping through his veins. Then again, perhaps some peace and quietness wouldn’t be so bad, and he would be lying if he hadn’t been longing for tranquility for a long time.

Especially after that fateful day.

A memory that refused to leave his mind, a scar that rooted itself so deep inside his heart. Dante lost everything that day, witnessed as his father, mother and brother perished in a fire. He was just a boy, holding a wooden sword and standing before his burning home, shellshocked and broken.

Being the sole survivor of a tragedy left Dante to live with a guilt and trauma that never faded, no matter how much time had tried to heal him. He became a vagabond with no home, a loner with no friends and no family to lean on. But he did not want to ponder, being left to descend a spiral of depression all alone often frightened him. 

So he chose to occupy himself with odd jobs, always moving from one place to another and donning the facade of an amicable, trustworthy fellow.

“Sweet old memories, always here to tease me.” 

Dante let out a dry chuckle, finding himself once again lost in memories he wished he could forget. An earthy scent graced his nostrils, and it was then the mercenary noticed that he had walked for quite a while. For now, he perhaps needed to make haste, before nightfall made him wander in the dark. 

Pushing back the cruel whispers of the demons of his past, Dante continued walking all alone on the lonely path.

\----------

“Where the hell am I?”

Dante muttered to himself, standing at a crossroad where tall trees cast long shadows onto the beaten dirt path. He looked at the old map in his hands for what must have been the tenth time, eyes narrowed at the numerous paths and landmarks drawn on the wrinkled piece of paper. The setting sun cast a dark orange hue on his frame, and somewhere around him was the distant cry of an unknown bird.

Dante let out a halfhearted humm, eyebrows rising in surprise as the realization began to dawn upon him. “Funny, this path isn’t on the map. Looks like I’m lost after all.”

There was not a soul in sight, and an uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach seeing how time was not waiting for him. Out of the corner of his eye, Dante noticed a wooden pointer, standing in an obscured corner under the shades of the tall trees. Fallen leaves gathered at its foot, and the shadows of the swaying branches danced across its surface.

“Oh look at that, just what I needed to find.” 

Dante began walking closer to his little discovery, hoping that upon a closer inspection, he would be able to tell where he was. His hand brushed away the dust that accumulated, and it was then Dante realized how near unreadable the signs were. Time had blurred whatever was written, and tried as he might, the mercenary failed to decipher what the smudged letters were trying to tell him. 

“What to do...what to do…” Dante let out a frustrated sigh, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossing as he tried to think of a solution. But nothing came to mind, and his heart sank with the realization that he had come to a dead end. 

But he did not have time to ponder, as it was then that a strange sound reached his ears.

It was a faint sound at first, seemingly coming from somewhere in the distance. Odd and rhythmic, the sound grew louder and louder, prompting Dante to reach a hand to the large sword that rested on his back. His mind was on high alert, and the mercenary tensed as he noticed that he was not alone. 

A figure appeared from the shadows of the trees, and upon its presence, Dante could not help the dumbfounded look that painted his face. It was a scarecrow that came to his rescue, hopping towards him and leaving small indents on the ground in its path. The mercenary had fought it all, monsters, spirits and demons, yet this was the most curious thing he had ever seen.

“Pretty good-lookin’ for a scarecrow, aren’t ya?”

Dante shot the strange scarecrow a friendly grin as it came to a stop before him. It was peculiar, he mused, the fact that someone would dress their scarecrow in such a fancy, black suit. Upon another look at his sudden company, Dante realized that there were traces of mud and something yellow on the hem of the scarecrow’s attire.

“Dunno where ya came from buddy, but I’m in a hurry here.” Dante pointed to the sky, the carefree smile never once left his face as he did. 

“It’s gettin’ dark and I need to get movin’, or at least find somewhere I can stay the night. You don’t happen to know a place, do you?”

It was meant to be a joke, something said with halfhearted commitment and bore no actual value. The idea of asking for a scarecrow for help felt ridiculous to him, and Dante did not expect to be given an answer by something that could not talk. 

Yet a bead of cold sweat trickled down the nape of his neck when a strange tension began to fill the silent atmosphere. 

The scarecrow stayed rooted to its spot, swaying back and forth against the gentle breeze that graced the world. A strange, uneasy feeling began to stir awake within him, and Dante felt a chill run down his spine. For the briefest of moments, he felt as if the thing was staring into his soul.

Moments passed by before the scarecrow began hopping on its peg again, like a child jumping up and down with joy. Dante watched as the strange creature turned, its outstretched limb pointing towards a narrow path that led to the unknown. 

“Well look at that, you do know a place after all.”

Dante jested, hoping to mask his surprise behind the mask of friendliness. But suspicion was bubbling beneath his skin, and questions sprouted in his head one after another like mushrooms after the rain. For a split second, he thought it was rather odd, how the scarecrow came to his aid when he was lost and all alone.

Like a strange guardian angel.

All his years of being a mercenary taught Dante that trust was a luxury that should not be given to just about anyone. But he doubted he would make it to the next town anytime soon, now when the map he carried showed nothing about this strange crossroad with faded signs. His stomach was empty, his mind weary, and his limbs were growing tired after having walked and run all day.

Perhaps it was worth the risks after all.

“Alright, I’m comin’ with you. Lead the way buddy.”

No sooner had the words left his lips did the scarecrow bow to Dante. Its stitched mouth formed a crooked smile, and the way its torso bent sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. Biting back the doubts that were gnawing at him, Dante followed the hopping scarecrow, treading the narrow path where little dark flowers bloomed among the grass blades.

With his back turned towards the wooden pointer, the mercenary remained oblivious to the fact that one of the signs was crossed out.

\----------

Dante had not a clue how long he had been walking before he arrived here, at a vast field where stalks of wheat swayed to the rhythm of the wind.

He squinted his eyes and saw it, a humble cottage far away in the distance. Smoke escaped from its chimney, and light was there behind the windows. Somebody was home, and the thought alone filled the mercenary with both relief and caution.

“Is this the place?” 

Dante turned his head to shoot his helper a questioning look, pointing a hand towards the cottage as a pleasant breeze caressed his snowy locks. But his question was greeted with silence, and Dante found it ridiculous how he was talking to a hopping scarecrow. 

The thing wouldn’t lead him all the way here for nothing now, would it?

“Alright… Guess I’ll walk the rest of the way. Thanks for the help.” 

Bidding the scarecrow a goodbye with a gesture of his hand, Dante began to make his way towards the cottage. He crossed the vast field, his tall, rugged figure pushing against the golden sea of wheat stalks and eyes looking straight ahead. The scarecrow stayed rooted to its spot, moving back and forth in silence as the mercenary walked further and further ahead.

Dante came to a stop before the cottage a while later, feeling his hands twitch as calloused digits itched to wrap themselves around the hilt of his sword out of instinct. A cold bead of sweat clung to his skin, and he wondered about this uneasiness that plagued his mind. Numerous thoughts crossed his head, and the mercenary pondered about what awaited him beyond the wooden door.

Then again, he had come such a long way to find this place now, had he not?

He decided to give the door a couple of knocks. Anticipation coursed through his veins, and the sound of his heartbeats were loud and frantic in his ear drums as the door opened. A woman emerged at the doorway, and Dante would be lying if he denied that he was not taken aback by the kind smile on her face.

“Hello stranger.” 

It was a simple greeting, two words spoken with perhaps not too much value attached to them. But his mind became blank for a moment, for the friendliness in her tone was both a long forgotten blessing. Truly, it has been far too long since anyone had talked to him as if they could look past his rugged exterior.

As if he was a human and not someone with monstrous strength. 

“Hello. Sorry to trouble you, miss, but I happen to be a bit lost.” The words did not come to him at first, not when his mind was busy registering the fact that such a warm, melodious voice graced his ears. 

“ I..uh… happened to stumble upon your house, and was wondering if I could stay the night? I will leave in the morning and won’t demand any breakfast, promise.” 

“Oh right, the day is coming to an end, isn’t it? Come in, I can’t let you wander around when it’s getting dark like this.” the stranger held the door open for him, and having offered her a courteous nod of his head, Dante invited himself inside.

As his host closed the door, the mercenary thought he caught a glimpse of the scarecrow standing all alone, so still and surrounded by the wheat stalks. Something about that stitched mouth, one that resembled a crooked grin, sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. 

\----------

The cottage was perhaps the coziest place he had been to in a long time, with just enough furniture and decorations to give a homely atmosphere.

An assortment of hanging herbs, a crackling fireplace and stacks of books that sat beside little candles. A piping hot pot of soup boiled atop the stove, wafting a savory aroma that had his mouth watering. Dante did not do anything at first, standing still and taking in his surroundings while a warm feeling seeped into his heart.

The place reminded him of home, a safe haven for one that had wandered for too long. 

“Follow me. I hope you’re hungry, I cooked a bit too much today.” 

Her voice once again reached him, banishing the little reverie that he was in. Offering his host a non-committed humm, Dante began to follow her, towards a table that sat close to a window. Laid atop the smooth wooden surface were numerous dishes, and Dante couldn’t help but feel a lump lodge itself in his throat. This reminded him of his late mother’s cooking.

“Take a seat and dig in. Don’t mind me, I’m pretty hungry myself.”

Casting the kind woman a quick glance, Dante saw how she was once again smiling his way. It was the same smile that his mother would give him when he came back from playing outside, with his hair, clothes and shoes covered in mud. Dante could not help these nostalgic feelings that clutched at his heart, it had been forever since he last had a good meal, after all.

He also could not say no, not when his hunger was eating at him from within, having spent a long day on foot. 

“Alright, since you offered.” 

Dante approached the table and sat himself, hoping to mask the stirring emotions deep within his heart with an amicable smile. The mercenary took a tentative bite of his food, noticing out of the corner of his eye that his host too was picking up her utensils. 

No sooner had the flavors graced his taste buds did a strange satisfaction flow through every fiber of his being.

The food was divine, that was the closest word that came to his mind to describe the wonderful taste.

“Well damn, you’re one hell of a cook, miss.” Dante offered his company a compliment, savoring the flavors that sent blissful tingles to alight in his veins.

“Thank you, I aim to please.”

Casting aside the doubts that dwelled in his mind, the mercenary began to enjoy his meal. Yet his enjoyment did not last for long, as standing outside in the open field was the scarecrow. It faced the direction of the cottage, immobile and ever unsettling with the stitched mouth. 

Gazing at the strange thing made swallowing the food in his mouth became a difficult task all in itself. 

“Right, I forgot to ask, what’s your name?”

Her voice was a distraction that he welcomed to keep his mind off the scarecrow, which seemed to stare at the two of them. 

“Oh, my bad, I waltzed into your house and didn’t even introduce myself.” He offered her an apology, tearing his gaze away from the creature that had his mind caught in a web of questions. “Name’s Dante, I’m just a guy who’s constantly on the move. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N. I live here on my own and go to the nearby villages to trade now and then. I’m glad to have you here, it does get lonely sometimes.”

Her name had a nice ring to it, that was the first thought that crossed his mind. The two of them continued to enjoy the hearty meal, and Dante realized he had not the chance to converse with someone else like this for many years. It was a nice change, one that allowed some warm rays of sunlight to shine in his heart.

Every now and then, the mercenary would find himself staring at the scarecrow in the distance. He wondered again and again about this uneasy feeling that settled deep in his guts, and whether it would be prying of him to ask his host about the thing. One thing was for certain, the scarecrow wore a rather sophisticated black suit like that of a gentleman.

So lost in his thought, Dante did not notice the way his host was gazing at him over the rim of her teacup.

\----------

Dante had an odd dream.

Or rather than odd, it was a dirty, indecent dream, so lucid he could feel each and every detail of what happened. She had given him a room to sleep in, where a lonesome bed rested beside a wooden nightstand. A couple of fragrant candles illuminated the room, their scent lulled him to sleep as soon as his back met with the comfort of the mattress.

It was perhaps around the dead of the night when the dream began.

He did not find himself standing in front of a burning house, nor did he hear his mother’s scream. In this dream, he saw Y/N, sneaking into his room with a smile on her face that let him know she craved debauchery. She looked gorgeous in the moonlight, and he swore the sight of her clothes pooling at her feet aroused him to no end.

Dante wasn’t a stranger to sex and flings. It was just a normal need, an itch that one had to deal with now and then. But he ought to admit he did not expect her to be so brazen, crawling into his bed all naked and seductive. What a minx she was behind such a sweet and kind facade.

Her lips were soft upon his as they shared a heated, passionate kiss. He watched as she took off his clothes, and a blissful sigh escaped his lips when her kissable lips trailed a path down his broad chest. A grunt rumbled deep within his chest when she ground herself against his crotch, and the urge to bury his cock deep within her burnt hot in his loins.

“You can pay me back with your body, you know.”

There was something so lewd about the way she gazed at him from under her lashes, with her hand stroking his cock and wet tongue circling around his nipple. That irresistible, taunting smirk on her face crushed the last shred of restraints he had, and Dante chuckled before claiming his place on top of her.

No foreplay, just straight down the spiral of desires.

She moaned without shame when he sank his cock into her, the sound was pure music to his ears. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall as he rammed himself into her, determined to pay her back with all that he had to give. She had her legs spread far apart, juice gushing from within and drenching the sheets as his hips snapped against hers.

Dante thought he got the reins, until she trailed her hands up his back. He let out a choked grunt when her nails scrapped against his skin, and his hips faltered for a moment at the feeling of something trickling down his back. Her breathless laugh reached his ear, and Dante could not help but wonder about the strange glint that flickered in her eyes.

“Don’t lose your head now, I just might eat you up.”

He jolted awake then, with beads of cold sweat clinging to his skin while his heartbeats were frantic. 

Running a hand through his messy hair, Dante let out a series of ragged breath. He cast a tired look around the room, mind scrambling to register the smallest details to anchor himself in reality. It was not the nightmare that haunted him, nor was it the tragedy that sapped his joy, and yet the dream left him disoriented and dreadful.

“I need more sleep… or probably just some company.” Dante ran a hand down his face, letting out a sigh that the silence of the night swallowed. 

Outside of the window of his room, stalks of wheat danced to the gentle evening breeze. Their shadows moved on the dimly lit wall, etching onto his frame. 

As he sat in the silence and darkness of his room, a faint whisper reached his ears.

Quiet like a murmur at first, growing louder and clearer with each passing minute. His eyes widened then, since he recognized this voice too well.

It was his mother’s voice, soft and felt like home, making his heart throb in utter longing.

“Mother...? Is that you...?” The sound pulled him to his feet, and it wasn’t long before Dante began looking everywhere around him like a lost child searching for his mother.

**_“Dante, where are you?”_ **

Putting on his clothes, Dante wasted no time and bolted out of his room. Uneasiness stirred in the pit of his stomach, his heart leaped miles per second. A cacophony of panic and yearning rang loud in his mind, and like a moth to the flame, he began to chase after the voice. 

The silver moon peeked from behind dark clouds by the time Dante got out of the cottage. He saw a dark figure standing in the distance, all alone in the vast field of swaying wheat stalks. 

“Mother…?” his voice wavered, but it was the least of his concern when his mind was heavy with questions. He knew it was her, his mind screamed that it had to be her. Dante could recognize that exquisite black dress anywhere, and the golden locks that framed her face were unmistakable. 

And yet before he could act, the figure began to walk away, deeper and further away towards an unknown direction of the golden sea of wheat stalks.

“Mother! Wait, don’t leave!” 

Dante took off after her, willing his feet to run as fast as he could to search for his mother. He did not know where he was going, his mind was akin to static noises to bother with directions. His lungs burnt while ragged breaths escaped his lips, and the wind whipped against him as the mercenary ran. Just like back then, when he ran for dear life away from his home that the fire reduced to ruins.

Eventually, he arrived at where must have been the heart of the field.

There was a big tree, ominous and dark, large roots worming their way into the grounds. His mother was there, standing in the shades of the enormous branches, all alone and silent. Dante was not certain what it was that made his blood run cold, the numerous heads dangling before his eyes, or the fact his mother did not utter a single word.

“Mother… I’m here…” Dante began walking towards the tree, his legs heavy like lead and his chest felt so tight. But there was this feeling of dread clawing at him from within, and he tried to ignore the distant sound of alarms ringing in his head.

No sooner did he reach the tree, did his mother raise a huge scythe and struck him.

He felt pain across his neck, and the image of a stitched mouth reflected in his widened eyes before Dante’s body fell limp to the bloody soil.

\----------

From the shadows of the field where the moonlight dared not touch, Y/N emerged.

The evening breeze was cool against her skin. Crisp and fresh was the air, with a faint earthy aroma mixed in. She adored this time of the day, when the universe moved like a sluggish current of a small stream.

And her powers too were at its peak.

Y/N arrived at the heart of the field moments later, where the eldritch tree loomed and a scarecrow stood so still. Her footsteps stirred the silence of the night, prompting her accomplice to budge. At the foot of its peg, covered in blood and immobile, were the mercenary’s body and his head.

“Ah, good job, you always make the cleanest cuts.” a wicked smile bloomed on her face before Y/N crouched by her victim’s side, fingers twirling a snowy lock of hair in an absentminded manner. “Oh you poor thing, can’t tell a damn scarecrow and your dead mother apart.”

The corners of her lips curl into that of a sneer as Y/N looked at the fallen mercenary before her. She proceeded to get a hold of his head, before carrying it in a gentle hold as she made her way towards where the tree was. 

“You can have his clothes, it’s about time I gave you something new anyway. You’ve been wearing that for years now, haven’t you?” she tossed the scarecrow a benevolent smile over her shoulder, and was then once again on her way forward.

In the pale moonlight, her eyes bear a sinister, gleeful glint, and there was nothing kind about the curl of her lips. Another one bit the dust, the broken hearted ever so susceptible for the smallest gesture of kindness. 

All around her, the stalks of wheat continued to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment if you'd like, your feedback and constructive criticism mean a lot to me ^^  
> Well, fellas, I've gone and done it now. This is probably the most disturbing thing I've written in a while.  
> I don't know why the idea of a murderous scarecrow got stuck in my head while planning a story for Dante. Throw in some angst and galaxy brain power from my friends and here we are.  
> May the good kind of spooks be with you this season, everyone. Stay safe and take care, I'll be doing my best with the final chapter too.


	5. A dance with death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone 🎃👻  
> Whew, I managed to finish this final chapter on time. A huge thank you to Ida, Wynn and @ghostofarose, who offered me so much help with brainstorming, beta reading, as well as helping me finish this chapter right when I'm having a writer's block. I honestly can't thank you guys enough.  
> Can you guys guess which song it is that V listens to in this chapter ?  
> \--------  
>  **what's on the menu: spooks, brief asphyxiation, implied decapitation, dark themes, consequences, possibly disturbing imagery, other matters that may have slipped from my mind at the time of tagging. Please proceed with care. ******

The clarity that flashes in her head makes her heart throb with rigid terror.

Somewhere around her music continues to play, a sorrowful whisper that reminds her of the darkest memories. Fire dances in the periphery of her vision, bright embers floating like fluttering petals that fall at the change of the seasons. The once peaceful, inviting atmosphere of the cafe is no more, and Y/N becomes hyper aware of the sudden shift that prompts tension to fill the air. 

A chill runs down her spine as her surroundings become clear once more. The trance that they submerged her in begins to lose its hold on her mind, and her heartbeats quicken as Y/N realizes who the people standing before her happen to be.

“Always fun to have a little daydream, right?”

Her eyes dart towards the source of the voice, taking in the rugged figure that leans against the wall. Dante has a stalk of wheat in his hand, fingers caressing the little grains while an amicable smile spreads across his face. But there is a hint of malevolence behind his friendly facade, and the glint of spite in his eyes made her tremble in fright.

“Why so afraid, Y/N? You didn’t look this scared when you stood and watched others die for your own entertainment.”

A quick turn of her head and her heart almost leaps out of her chest, for Vergil is shooting her a cold glare from behind the bar. His fingers drum against the well-polished wooden surface, eyes bearing a hatred so dark that the gaze suffocates her. The wheel of fate begins to turn, just as alarms begin to screech inside her head.

She wants to do nothing more than to escape this odd little cafe, where winds of retributions are brewing like a storm. 

“Say, Y/N, do you wanna learn the meaning of forever?” Nero tightens his fingers on her shoulders, the strength of his grip coaxes a pained gasp from her lips. He proceeds to lean closer, and her eyes widen in ever-growing dread as a cold breath fans her ear. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be hard. You aren’t even human anymore, after all.”

That is the cue she needs, and Y/N wastes no time in dashing towards the door. 

She hears the sound of her chair clatter as it falls to the floor, almost drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Yet the door refuses to open, and her heart hammers in her chest as the sound of footsteps stirs the silence of the cafe from somewhere behind her back. How she regrets chancing a terrified look over her back, as glowing pairs of eyes are staring at her with nothing but malice and contempt.

“Oh look at that! The little lass wanna play chase!” Dante lets out a gleeful chuckle, the stalk of wheat still stuck between his fingers as his eyes land on her trembling frame. In the dim light of the cafe, she thought he looked like the devil himself.

“They always try to run, don’t they?” Vergil scoffs at his pitiful guest, just as Nero snaps his fingers in a taunting manner. A cruel grin begins to bloom on his face, and her blood runs cold the moment a click registers in her mind.

“Say, Y/N, how fast can you run?”

Taking heed of the sound of the lock clicking, Y/N wastes no time in yanking the door open. The four men watch with twisted amusement as their target runs out of the cafe, her figure swallowed by the darkness of the outside world. 

“So, who’s gonna watch the store in case  _ he _ comes? I kinda wanna go and catch up on things with her.” Dante pushes himself off the wall, feeling adrenaline start to pump through his veins. 

“I shall stay and wait for  _ his _ arrival.” V makes his way towards the bar, the corners of his lips forming a cocky smirk. “I suggest you three make haste, time is ticking and our little butterfly is fluttering her wings as we speak.”

\---------

Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach when Y/N realizes that she did not return to the crowded street.

She is all alone, in a dark forest where not a sound can be heard. Tall, eldritch trees reach for the sky above, and a horrified gasp escapes her lips when Y/N sees the silhouette of heads dangling from the branches. The wind carries with it a harsh bite, and dark clouds cover the waning moon above.

“Where am I…? Why am I here…?” 

Y/N mutters under her breath, eyes darting back and forth as she takes in her surroundings. Paranoia sinks deep into her heart as shadows danced and moved in the periphery of her vision, while ominous whispers taunt her mind. She wants to believe she is all alone, she wants to believe that there is no one lurking in the darkness where the cold moonlight dares not touch.

But the forest does not want to shelter her.

_ “Care for a little chase on a moonlit night?” _

Her blood runs cold the moment she hears a distorted voice that comes as a whisper in the wind. The ground begins to tremble, and it is not long before she hears the sound of horse’s hooves galloping in the distance. Someone is coming, and her eyes widen in fear when she catches a glimpse of the silhouette that looms in the distance. 

_ “Your head will be a pretty little addition to that tree, don’t you think?” _

The words send her mind down a spiral of despair, and fear reduces her last shred of dignity to cinders. Y/N begins to run, like a deer desperate to escape the hounds that are hot on its trail. She can feel a pair of piercing blue eyes watching her from the distance, and within the next instance a shrill neigh of a horse echoes through the dark forest.

He is coming, the fallen knight corrupted by the flames of hatred is coming.

Sceneries pass by in a blur, the dangling heads snicker and glare at her as they witness her plight. Her lungs burn, her heartbeats frantic, and a shearing ache gnaws at her legs. She chances a look behind her back now and then, senses overridden with absolute terror while a cacophony of panic and despair roars in her mind.

Distracted by her paranoid state of mind, Y/N fails to see the horrendous roots that sprawl onto the ground before her.

She lets out a startled yelp, feeling the world falling before her eyes as her body braces itself for the impact. Yet the pain never comes, for within the next instance she finds herself submerged in frigid, dark waters. 

Panic seizes her mind, the once stale, cold air is now but a luxury. The currents make her body heavy and sluggish, and dread fills her mind as she gets reduced to a disoriented, flailing puppet. Gathering all the strength that she has left, Y/N begins swimming to the surface, desperate for a gulp of air to ease her lungs.

It was then that a hand grasps her ankle.

She flinches at the contact, and regret floods her mind when Y/N casts a look at the dark hand that grips at her. Her eyes are met with a pair of sinister, blue orbs, the hatred and malice that swirl in them petrify her with fear. The young man who drowned because of her is there, grinning at the appalled expression that paints on her face.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end of your own poison, is it?”

Tiny bubbles dance all around her in the darkness of the water as Y/N thrashes. Her voice becomes muffled, her pleas for help reaches no one. Dark and disfigured beings surround her, tugging and pulling her deeper into her demise. Hope starts to wither within her heart, and black spots dot her vision as her existence begins to dim.

But it is too early for such a merciful end. 

_ “Oh no no, not yet, don’t go limpin’ on us yet.  _

_ We still have a little surprise for you on the shore.” _

Y/N feels someone yank her from the hold of the water, the sudden stop of being like a limp rag doll leaves her disoriented. She is tossed onto the shore, and the impact that comes with her body colliding with the coarse ground causes pain to numb her senses for the briefest of moments. 

Her coughs stir the silence of the atmosphere. She gasps for air, grateful and ever so glad that her lungs no longer burn. The world is a blurry, spinning mess before her eyes, yet Y/N knows she is not allowed a reprieve when a shadow looms over her trembling form.

The moon peeks from behind dark, foreboding clouds the moment she raises her head to look at the rugged figure standing before her. Her eyes widen at the sight of a scythe, sharp and glimmering in the pale rays of light. Y/N catches a glimpse of a crooked smile, and so paralyzed by fear, she cannot move nor escape.

There is nothing she can do when he raises the scythe with such a gleeful grin on his face.

\---------

The cafe feels like his own paradise when the others are away.

V decides to change the music, no longer in the mood for heartrending elegies or solemn songs that make his heart heavy with thoughts. A smile blooms on his face as the foreboding melody begins, like the graceful steps of death creeping on a fair maiden. 

It starts with a series of violin tunes, before the melody melts into a waltz flowing like the golden river Styx. He hums to the lively yet morbid tune, imagining dancers gracefully maneuvering their way to the depths of hell. It is one of his favorite symphonies, one that reminds him of a sly cat sweet-talking its prey into a dizzying waltz, only to never let go. 

A pleasant fragrance wafts through the air of the cafe as V begins brewing a kettle over the stove top. The aroma of various kinds of coffee beans and tea leaves surrounds him, and his fingers drum against the bar’s surface to the rhythm of the tune that was becoming stronger and stronger. 

His little moment gets disrupted, however, when he hears the little chime of the cafe’s bell.

“You’re punctual as ever.” V offers a little remark as the footsteps get closer, tattooed fingers switching off the stove as the water has come to a boil. Holding the piping hot kettle, he turns and walks towards the bar, where a man is sitting by himself.

“I ought to see how my boys are faring now and then, after all.”

Sparda casts a quick look at his surroundings with a charismatic smile, just as V begins to pour him a cup of the aromatic tea. 

“I take it that the others will be joining us later?” He asks. 

“Yes, they are delivering judgement as we speak, though I would be lying if I said that I am not curious about the outcome.” A smile blooms on his face as V watches the maroon liquid flow and swirl inside his own fine porcelain cup. 

“I reckon we will be busy next year too. Hatred and regrets, they just never end.” Sparda begins, a thoughtful and solemn look painted on his face as he sets down his cup onto the well-polished surface of the bar. “What about you V? I haven't seen you on any job for a while.”

Before V can offer an answer, the familiar chime of the cafe’s bell rings in the air once more. Both men turn to look at the door, and a smirk tugs at the corners of V’s lips.

“Oh don’t worry. I shall take care of that to the best of my abilities.”

V rounds the corner of the bar, putting on his best smile as Sparda watches with keen interest. He comes to a stop before the newest client, dark locks of hair swaying as he bowed. His green eyes carry a faint glow in the dim light of the cafe, and he watches with mirth as his voice unravels the poor soul before him. 

**_“Welcome, little wanderer. How may I help you tonight?”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please feel free to leave a comment and voice your thoughts / constructive criticism. It's an honor for me to know what you guys think of my works ^^  
> Did you guys enjoy this concept? I am planning to do this kind of mini series again next Halloween, so I would like to know your opinion on this.  
> It appears that I have hit a bit of a writer's block trying to complete this series. Since I suppose it's time for selfcare, I will be taking some time off writing to recharge.  
> Stay safe and take care everyone, and may the good kind of spooks be with you 👻.


End file.
